Then, a funny think happened
by up.into.the.sky
Summary: Four years after leaving Hogwarts, Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy reunite by chance to find that the enmity of their school days has turned into something very different, but equally energetic... Rated M for explicit slash.
1. Chapter 1

Hello everyone! After reading Drarry fanfiction for years, I finally decided that it was time to get off my metaphorical arse and write one myself. I hope you enjoy it, and by all means review!

Note: I in no way, shape, form, fashion, or function own _Harry Potter_. All characters belong to the goddess formally known as J.K. Rowling.

. . .

This was a bad idea. Harry couldn't believe he had let Seamus drag him to a night club. A scantily clad man sashayed past him, and Harry closed his eyes and revised his previous thought. He couldn't believe he had let Seamus drag him to a gay night club, especially one with a name like _Slut_. Although Harry had known he was gay for a long time now (obviously), he hadn't come out to anyone but his closest friends, and then only recently. Harry grinned as he thought about the day he had first come out to Ron and Hermione.

The two had gotten married after the war and their last year at school, and moved into a small flat outside of muggle London. He had simply gone over, placed himself and his friends on the pair's ratty couch, and told them he was gay. Never had Ron turned so many colors in so short a time span. He and Hermione watched him, half worried and half amused.

Finally, Ron went from purple to a semi-normal color. He took a deep breath and let it out. "Are you sure mate?" Ron asked, sounding a little winded.

Harry raised his eyebrows at him. "Ron, would I risk your heart failure if I wasn't sure? And besides, how could I not be?" Harry leant back only to sit forward again as he was prodded by a spring that had sprung. '_Note to self,_' Harry thought. '_Buy Ron and Hermione a new couch and sneak it in pretending it's a present from Father Christmas._' Harry turned to Hermione. "You don't seemed surprised at all."

Hermione shrugged as she slowly stood up from the couch. Already, she was pregnant with Ron's first. She smiled at Harry.

"I always had a bit of a suspicion," she admitted. "I was just waiting for you to confirm." Harry's mind raced. Had he been acting... poufy?

"Uh, what clued you in?" he asked, trying to seem nonchalant. Hermione's smile widened.

"Nothing really, call it woman's intuition." For a moment, Harry wondered if she had read his mind. He wouldn't put it past her; Hermione did spend an awful lot of time in the Hogwarts library, which could easily have a spell for mind reading. After a pleasant tea, he had gone home content and feeling, for the first time in a while, happy about being the g-word.

That happiness was in great danger of being washed away by the sea of awkward that sloshed around inside him. Everywhere he looked he saw glitter, pink, and the shine of lip-gloss. Honestly, could this place get any gay-er?

A flash caught Harry's eye. He turned, and was entirely pleased with what he saw. Across the floor was a lithe young man, gyrating with the heavy beat. It had been his platinum blond hair that had so captured Harry's attention. He was dressed to make the pants of any man tighten, with a black tank top that clung to his chest, big buckled boots, and leather pants. Harry swallowed and lifted his eyes skyward. Oh yes, thank God for leather pants. Although he was still too nervous to approach the stunning man, Harry was content to watch him-for now. His eyes followed the dancer's long whipping braid and trailed down the twisting torso. Try though he might, however, Harry couldn't see his face. The man was half-turned away from him, and the little of his face that Harry could see was alternatively lit and shadowed by flashing strobe lights. Harry frowned. There was something familiar about that pointed chin…

At that moment, Dean returned to their table, collapsing in the booth across from Harry.

"Hey Harry. Still moping here, eh?" Harry grimaced at him.

"Shove off. You know I can't dance." A grinning Seamus sauntered up to them.

"Neither can Dean but that doesn't stop him." Dean yelled a protest and grabbed his boyfriend's hand, dragging him onto his lap. Harry stood up and sighed.

"Well dears, I'm off to get a drink. Do you want anything from the bar?"

Dean shook his head, saying, "Designated apperater," as Seamus shouted above the music for an Appletini. Harry looked at him, one eyebrow crooked.

"An Appletini?" Seamus nodded.

"It makes me feel fancy." Harry and Dean both shook their heads. As he walked towards the bar, Harry heard Dean say, "God Seamus, you're such a girl," and the slap that followed it. A smile warmed his face. Stupid boys.

Upon getting closer the bar and getting a better look at who was seated there, he stopped short, and then started forward with a grin. Sitting at the bar was his dancer. And he was alone. Harry sidled up to the bar and chose a seat two stools down from the blonde. Leaning on an elbow, he stretched out the other hand towards him.

"Hey," he said in an attempt to be smooth. "Can I buy you a drink?"

Whatever he was expecting, it was not what followed. The blonde whipped around.

"Potter?" he spluttered.

Only a quick grab of the bar kept Harry from falling off his stool in shock. A stunned whisper wheezed out of him. "Malfoy?"

Draco looked from side to side and then leaned towards Harry hissing, "What the hell are you doing here?"

Harry snorted. "Gee Malfoy, I've no idea," he said, tone dripping with sarcasm. "What are you doing here? Tatting lace?" Draco buried his face in his hands, humiliation written all over his features.

"Oh Christ," he said, his voice muffled. "I'm finished."

Harry leaned forward with a frown. "Sorry?"

"You've seen me at a gay bar!" Draco wailed. "It'll be all over the Prophet!" He collapsed face-down, forehead resting on his arms. The bartender threw a confused look at Draco and then a questioning one at Harry, who could only shrug as the two listened to the moans coming from the third. Suddenly, Draco froze. Harry and the bartender braced themselves for whatever the volatile blond was going to do. Draco bounced upright and stabbed a finger at Harry. "Ha!" he yelled. "You're at a gay bar! Harry Potter, Boy Wonder, Destroyer of You-Know-Who, the Savior of the Modern World is gay! Wait till I tell Pansy, she'll owe me fifteen galleons from that bet from fifth year." Draco sat back, a satisfied look on his face. Harry sighed.

"Malfoy, how could you have seen me at a gay bar without being there yourself?"

"Oh yeah," he said. "That does hold a modicum of truth." He leant forward, propping his elbows on the bar and his head on his hands. Harry looked at him side-long through his lashes. Four years had been good for Draco. He had filled out since school; his teenage-pointy awkwardness had giving way to an angular grace. And that hair… Harry surreptitiously checked to make sure he wasn't drooling. Long effeminate hair fit the ponce better than the slicked-back Point Dexter look of his school days. He slid his eyes up Draco's body to his face to find that Draco was doing the same thing to him, a calculating look pinching his brows.

"You look better without the glasses. And you've gained some muscle. You're not the scrawny, specky git I remember." Harry grinned at him.

"I like your hair long. And you've gotten less gawky. You're not the greased, sniveling twit I remember." Draco sighed.

"So what not?" he asked. "We sit here and reminisce?"

"If that's your plan, I've got others who can jump on our nostalgia train." Draco frowned at him.

"What? Are there more gay Gryffindorks? Or did you just drag the rest of your Golden Trio with you for moral support?" Harry just smiled and grabbed his gin-and-soda and Seamus' Appletini.

"Come with me and see." Draco hopped off his barstool and grabbed his own drink. As he did so, his braid was set swinging, a movement that once again caught Harry's eye and stole his attention. He couldn't help but imagine what he would look like naked, with only that long, white-blond hair covering him. '_I didn't know I had a fetish for long hair,_' he thought with amusement. '_That could get dangerous._' Feeling a touch on his shoulder, Harry turned to see Draco looking pointedly at the drinks in his hand.

"An Appletini Potter?" he asked with a snort. "We're at a gay bar. You don't have to wear a sign that says: 'Hello, I'm queer,'" to which Harry only sighed in reply.

"It's not mine. But its owner doesn't need a sign either. He _emanates _gay. Oh-" He suddenly came to a complete stop and turned around, causing Draco to only narrowly avoid crashing into him. "Don't call me Potter anymore. We aren't in school and trying to kill each other. It's Harry." Draco thought about it for a moment before nodding.

"Fine. Then I'm Draco." The two smiled at each other, then continued toward the table with a blush gracing each face.

By this time, Seamus had moved off his boyfriend's lap, though there was still a hint of red coloring Dean's face where Seamus had slapped him. Seeing Harry walk over, the Irishman perked up and poked his sulking companion.

"Oi, Dean, look who's finally back with my drink."

"Where the hell've you been, mate?" Dean asked. "We were wondering if you'd somehow gotten yourself lost." Putting down the drinks, he grinned and pushed Draco forward.

"Nope. In fact, I found someone. Gents, you remember Draco Malfoy? I saw Draco at the bar and forced him over." Draco waved them a hello before throwing a mocking smile back at him and sliding into the booth after him.

"Force? Please. Haven't you met my mother? No one forces a Malfoy to do anything." The men laughed, any and all tension gone. Harry looked carefully at his old dorm-mates. Although Dean and Seamus seemed surprised, it seemed more over the fact that Harry was on such good terms with his ex-arch enemy. Draco didn't look surprised at all. When he voiced this, Draco shrugged.

"The two of them were always together and used to beat the crap out of anyone who even joked that they were dating. Obvious." Harry nodded at the two in question.

"You were really obvious. I still didn't know you guys were, you know," he insinuated, flushing and gesticulating. For some reason, he seemed unable to name the dirty deed, and the pair giggled at his ineloquence. Their friend frowned at them, crossing his arms petulantly. "You know what I'm talking about, don't be a bunch of wankers. Anyway, I didn't know you two were _together_ until that night you forgot to put a silencing charm on the curtains of Seamus' bed." This time it was their turn to blush as Draco crowed with laughter.

When he calmed, the blonde asked: "So what about me? How'd you know I was that way inclined?"

"Easy," said the still-crimson Dean. "You were too poncey not to be." Harry snorted into his drink.

"Moi? I protest," Draco said dryly, one eyebrow crooked.

"Don't bother. You know the truth," Dean shot back.

With a sigh that showed the patience of a thousand years, Draco admitted, "I was a little, what was the word? Poncey? I confess." He swiveled suddenly to turn sharp grey eyes on the man beside him. "But you Harry, I'm surprised about."

"What do you mean?" he asked, though there was no doubt about what he wanted to know. It seemed everyone made the same comment when they found out. Giving another sigh, Draco spoke very slowly, the way one does to a young child or a very, very thick, delusional adult.

"I was surprised to find you here. At a gay bar. Meaning you're gay."

Harry refused to help him out. "So?" he asked relishing the annoyed look on the other man's face.

Finally his annoyance broke to the surface and he burst out, "So since when are you gay? When we were in school you always had a bird on your arm! The Granger girl-"

"Just a friend," Harry interrupted smoothly, making Draco huff at him.

"Fine. Then the seeker, Chin or-"

"Cho Chang?" He shook his head. "Not as great as I thought it would be. Kind of like dating a Moaning Myrtle with a pulse."

"Okay, then what about the Weaslette?" Harry cringed.

"Ah," Draco chirped, happy now that he had finally hit a nerve. "Yes?" Harry rubbed the back of neck.

"Ginny was a plan gone wildly awry." The other three looked at him in confusion.

"What do you mean?" Draco asked, genuine curiosity plain in his voice.

"Well, while I was in school, I started to realize that maybe I wasn't as straight as I thought I was. No one else seemed to enjoy the post-game showers and games of strip-poker nearly as much as I did." A laugh rose up from the listeners before they focused back on his story. "In short, I freaked out a little. No," he corrected. "That's a lie. I freaked out a lot. I wasn't naïve. Ever since Dumbledore told me the truth about my parents and about my mission, I had known the wizarding world wanted me to keep saving everyone and to help pop out more little prodigies for when I finally failed." Closing his eyes to avoid the pitying looks from those around him –especially the one shining from limpid gray ones—he continued. He had never really told anyone but Hermione this, and he felt disconcerted by their rapt attention. "So I went to Ginny Weasly for help. I needed a friend who could both cover up the fact I was gay and, maybe, oh Christ." He blow out puffed cheeks and stared up at the ceiling.

"And what Harry?" Seamus asked keeping his voice low. Harry looked at him sheepishly.

"I dunno, work on making me not gay?" The others groaned.

"Oh come on Harry," Dean said. "Did you really thing that would work?"

"Well I hoped!" he replied indignantly. Seamus gave him a doubtful look.

"_Really_ Harry?"

"Knock it off. I'm sure you both tried it too," Draco said, coming to the poor man's defense. He rested a pale hand of Harry's arm. "Go on then Harry." He looked at his savior and nodded before turning his blushing face away to focus of the table.

"The thing with Ginny worked for one part of my plan. Obviously no one suspected I was gay. Of course, my hopes that she would "convert" me failed miserably." He winced. "Then things got worse."

"What?" Seamus asked breathlessly, ever the eager gossip. Harry offered him a bruised smile.

"She fell in love with me." A hiss of sympathy went around the table. "I didn't mean for it to happen!" he cried. "I didn't even notice until one afternoon when she started talking about marriage and kids-" All four shuddered delicately.

"Gross," Draco mumbled "Sex with women."

"That's when I realized my huge mistake. We broke up right after." Silence reigned over the table until Draco snagged a waiter and ordered a round of drinks. Technically, you couldn't order alcohol without going to the bar and presenting I.D. When a still-quiet Harry brought this up, the man smirked.

"Oh, they know me here, don't they love?" he said, directing the last at the blushing waiter. The young man rolled his eyes and walked away, switching his hips slightly. Dean, Seamus and Harry stared at him with something like respect in their eyes while –something- uncurled itself in Harry's belly. He started. Could that be jealousy?

Desperate for something to distract him from this disturbing new development, he asked, "What about you? Weren't you engaged to Pansy Parkinson at birth or something? Why aren't you married with some lover hidden away somewhere in your huge house?"

"First of all, the word is _betrothed_, not engaged you uncultured swine. And second, how do you know that's not how it is?" he asked demurely. Harry flapped a hand at him.

"Oh, I think I saw something in the Prophet about her marriage to some ancient rich bloke. Invented something and ended up with a shite-ton of money and a trophy wife." Draco smiled at the waiter who had come back with the drinks and then sighed as he took a sip.

"Ah, my poor Pansy. She owls me whenever she gets lonely. Which is all the time." He took another sip and Harry watched him swallow, wishing with all his heart Draco would swallow something of his. "Of course, now she's busy. By some miracle, old Methuselah got her pregnant." He nodded at their noises of surprise.

"How's she taking it?" Seamus asked tentatively. Harry looked at him curiously. Like all Gryffindors and Slytherins, the two had hated each other at school.

"Amazingly well. In fact, she's about over the moon. The healer told her it's going to be twins, a boy and girl."

Dean laughed. "Then she'll definitely have her hands full."

He nodded then turned to Harry. "Speaking of bloated best friends, isn't Granger pregnant?" The three former Gryffindors leapt into reports about her status along with the rest of the Weasly family. From there their conversation stayed innocent. They talked about Hogwarts, swapped detention stories, and played the "Where are they now?" game with most of the answers supplied by an oddly informed Seamus.

Several hours later, Dean said he and Seamus had to go home. The other three groaned and then stood to collect themselves. Or tried to. One was mostly successful, one was partly successful after a few tries, and the last was too hammered and fell out of the booth, laughing hysterically on the ground.

"Lookit 'Arry," Draco said breathlessly. "I, I fell!" Then he collapsed back into fits of giggles. Harry looked down at him, his gaze slightly unfocused but steady.

"_Shit_," he slurred. "Malfoy's pissed." Dean, who was in the process of gathering up his boyfriend, looked at Harry with concern.

"Can you handle 'im? I, uh," he shifted the dozing Seamus. "Well I got my hands full." Harry waved him away; not lifting his eyes from Draco's shaking form. The blonde was rolling around on the floor, clutching his sides.

"F-fell!" he gasped. "I f-fell!"

Shaking his head, Harry reached down and stretched out his arms. "Come on you. Grab my hands." The man rolled onto his back and peered up at Harry.

"You know, you have pretty eyes. On all three heads." Harry rolled said eyes.

"Yeah?" he asked.

"Yeah." Draco gazed up and down the length of Harry's body. "Potter, I like you."

"Really?" Harry asked incredulously. Draco beamed happily up at him.

"Mmhm. I've liked you for…" he trailed off, deep in thought. He frowned. "For forever." Crouching down next to him, Harry gave him a frown in return.

"Forever?" He nodded, and Harry looked away. When he looked back, he saw the man's eyelids begin to droop. He shook Draco's shoulder. "Come on, don't sleep here." The blonde moaned, a sound that made Harry's pants considerably more uncomfortable. He hauled Draco to his feet, keeping him upright as he swayed. "Hey," he murmured in the other's ear. "Can you make it?" Draco draped himself on Harry and nuzzled into his neck.

"I can now." The Golden Boy flushed for the umpteenth time that evening. "Well go on Harry," Draco crooned. "Let's go."

Together they walked back towards the entrance with Draco clinging to Harry a bit more than was necessary. As often as he could, Harry looked down at Draco as the man chattered. Strands of his long blond hair had fallen into his face and his pale cheeks were rosy with drink. He looked absolutely _delicious_. As they left the club, Draco suddenly tripped over the entrance. Harry caught the giggling blonde before he hit the ground, but then lost his own balance. The two crashed down to fall into a heap on the sidewalk. Somehow, Harry landed on his back with the other man sprawled on top of him.

'_God_,' he prayed. '_I thank you very much for this gift._'

"Whoops," Draco purred. "It seems I've fallen down again." He sat up, straddling Harry's hips, and looked down. "Ah!" he exclaimed. "I've captured and defeated Harry Potter. Won't 'moldy be pleased?" Below, Harry stared up in wonder. For a drunk, Draco was amazingly coherent.

"Draco."

The man in question jumped. "Mmm?" he said, cocking his head to one side.

"You're sitting on me."

He looked down. "So I am," he said calmly. "I must say, you're really quite comfortable." Gazing off into space, he wondered aloud, "Maybe that's why You-Know-Who wanted you. For a nice Potter chair." The "chair" snorted and rolled his eyes.

"I bet that's exactly what he wanted. Now do you mind getting off?" Draco started in shock.

"Right here? On the street? I didn't know you were into that. Ah well," he sighed, and reached to unzip his pants. Harry hurriedly stopped him.

"Draco, I meant get off of me." Draco's eyes widened in mock horror as he smirked.

"Get off on you? How dirty. But your wish is my command." Unable to do anything but gape, Harry stared at him as he rose up on his knees and prepared to pull off his tight leather pants. Coming to his senses, he reached and gripped the blonde's hands before they could undo his belt. Draco looked down at him in confusion. "Harry?" he asked. "What are you doing?"

Harry's still slightly drunken mind raced to come up with a response that would appease the sex-crazed man. "I, uh, want to wait 'til we get back to my flat," he stammered.

"Oh yeah?" the other whispered as he lowered himself to rest on Harry again and leaned towards his face.

"Yeah," he replied more smoothly. "I don't want to share the sight of you with anyone else on the street."

Draco giggled. "Territorial eh? Then you better get me back to your flat." Harry swallowed.

"Okay then."

Haphazardly, Draco climbed off him, stumbling slightly as he stood. Seeing the potential danger, Harry scrambled up to steady the swaying man. When Draco leaned into him, he could only think of getting back to his flat as soon as humanly possible and claiming the prize wrapped around him. Slowly, they walked over to an alleyway so that Harry could apperate them there. When Draco began to suck on his neck, Harry prayed that he could focus enough to get to their location with splinching either one of them. He gripped him tighter then took out his wand with another silent plea. The familiar darkness squeezing sensation of the spell enveloped them, and then suddenly ceased to reveal the brick walls that made up the alley behind his flat.

After patting himself down to make sure nothing was missing, he gave Draco the same treatment. His only response was to whisper dirty suggestions in his ear as Harry did so. Dead scarlet, he grabbed Draco's hand and led him towards the steps that led to his flat. When they reached the landing, Draco slung his arms around Harry's neck and nibbled on his ear as the man fumbled for his keys.

Finally, the door came open and the wanton pair fell inside. After crawling to the living room, Harry was pushed back onto the couch with the blonde kneeling between his legs where he lunged up, yanking Harry's collar to drag his face down to his level, and captured his lips for the first time. Despite his trepidation, Harry closed his eyes and let his lips open to accept Draco's wandering tongue.

'_Well,'_ he thought. _'His technique's a bit clumsy, but I can't say anything against his enthusiasm.'_ Draco pulled back, and with a crooked smile slowly unzipped Harry's jeans. Harry's breath caught as Draco freed his cock from his pants and trousers. He squeezed his eyes shut. '_Oh Christ. Here we go.'_

He was bracing himself against the couch cushions when he heard a thump. Frowning, he leaned forward and looked down.

There, sprawled on the carpet and completely passed out, was Draco.

With a sigh, he tucked himself in awkwardly then picked up the sleeping figure and carried him princess-style to his bedroom. He placed him down on the bed and tenderly, almost reverently, undressed him, forcing himself to not stare at Draco's prone body as it was revealed. Harry pulled the blankets up to cover him, then trudged back to the living room. Forced to sleep on the couch by someone who wasn't even conscious.

Boy was he whipped.

. . .

Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed the first chapter of "Then, a funny thing happened..." The next chapter will be up on Tuesday.


	2. Chapter 2

Draco woke up the next morning alone, in someone else's bed, in a strange place, with no memory of last night's events, and suffering from a headache that could kill a hippogriff. Realizing what could have occurred, he ran his usual check that he went through in these situations.

One: clothes. Well, he was wearing his briefs, but was almost positive he had been wearing more than that last night. Looking about the room, he caught sight of his clothes neatly folded and stacked on a chair nearby. '_Good_,' he thought. '_At least I wasn't streaking_.' A shudder shook him. '_Unlike last time_.'

Two: possible additions. Draco ran his hands down himself, following their path with his eyes to make sure there weren't any new scars, piercings, or tattoos. One large scar crossing his chest. Old. Thank you Potter. Silver hoop in his left ear and a stud in his tongue. He cringed. Old. Past drunken adages. One black tattoo: ouroboros on the inside of his right wrist; is Ministry tracing tattoo. Old. Nothing new. A sigh of relief slipped out before he took a deep, bracing breath.

Three: internal body. Head: full of fuzz and throbbing with what he was sure was a record breaking hangover, but unharmed. Face:… he smirked. Gorgeous, of course. Jaw: no pain. '_Excellent. I didn't end up sucking off some stranger._' Thrilling in that small triumph, he continued down his list. Neck: Carefully he massaged his pale throat. Nothing. Chest and nipples: fine. Stomach: plagued by hangover nausea, but otherwise alright. Back: fine. Ass:... Draco tentatively sat up and felt his posterior. Relief flooded his body. Not sore. As far as he could tell, all he had done was crash at a new friend's flat. He slid out of bed and went to greet his host when he looked down. Going in just his briefs didn't seem like a very good idea. Briefly, he considered putting on his clothes from last night before he dropped the idea with a wince. There was no way he was going to wear his gross club clothes until they had been properly scourgified by his house-elf. Left with no other alternative, Draco dragged a blanket off the bed and wrapped it around himself. He grabbed his wand from off the bedside table and walked towards the door, pausing to take in his appearance with a quick Speculum charm. His confidence flagged when he saw his bleary, bagged eyes, sleep tangled hair and pain-pinched face, but left the room to face his host anyway, hoping that whoever it was looked as trashed as he did. As he closed the door behind him, he could faintly make out a light noise coming from the room the hallway where he now stood.

Quietly, he crept down the passage and poked his head around the wall. He immediately withdrew it and raced to process what he had just seen.

On a small couch in the other room had been none other than one Harry Potter. Hogwarts' Golden Boy had been sleeping cramped up under what looked suspiciously like a Weasley-made afghan, one arm thrown over his face. All at once, the events of last night of last night hit Draco like a herd of thestrals.

He bit back a moan as he slid to the floor. After meeting Potter-no, he amended, he had been told to call him Harry-and two of their other ex-classmates, he'd gotten completely drunk off his ass and made numerous advances towards his old nemesis. Then things started to go fuzzy after his memories of Dean and Seamus' departure.

'_Oh Merlin!_' he panicked. '_What did I say to him? What did I do after my memories of last night end?_' Cautiously, he stuck his head around the corner again in time to see Harry mumble something and roll over, exposing his neck- and several hickeys.

Every dog on the block looked around in alarm and the pictures lining the hallway rattled with the force of a scream so high pitched it was nigh imperceptible.

'_**OH MY GOD! I MOLESTED HARRY POTTER! OH FUCK FUCK SHIT BUGGERING FUCK!**_'

Draco was dragged out of his freak-out by the sounds of more stirring and murmuring and alerted him to the reality that the man, molested or no, was waking up. He took a deep breath, hitched the blanket higher on his shoulders, and haltingly walked into the living room to stop just short of the couch. Steeling himself, he crouched down in front of it.

"Harry," he whispered. "Harry wake up. Harry please!" The addressed merely moaned and flipped over.

"Go 'way 'Mione. If I miss breakfast I'll beg some from the house-elves. As long as you don' come I'm… sure I'll… get… some…" The mumbled statement trailed off in a slight snore as he dropped back off to sleep. Draco rocked back on his heels, a slight smile curving the corners of his lips. He looked at the other man's face, remarking on how peaceful he looked while he slept. When they were in school, he had always seemed guarded, more ready to respond to hex than a kind word. Or maybe that was just in Draco's presence. But he could ponder on that later. Right now, he had to focus on waking Harry up and getting the full story from last night out of him. Gently he shook Harry's shoulder.

"Harry, I'm really sorry but I need you to get up." Harry moaned, a noise that made Draco's pulse speed up, and slowly and blinkingly opened his eyes.

"Wha? Draco?" he said groggily. Then his eyes snapped open and he shot up with a "Bloody hell!" a split second before he groaned and clutched at his head.

Draco leant forward, concern plain on his face, only to be waved off.

"'S okay," he said, peering at the blonde through his one opened eye. "How are you?" Draco shrugged.

"Been better, but I've suffered much worse. Anyway, that doesn't matter. I need to ask you something." Harry rubbed his aching skull.

"Shoot."

"Well," Draco began hesitantly. "What, um, what exactly happened last night?"

The man in front of him froze.

'_Shit,'_ he cursed. _'That can't be good.'_

"Why do you ask?" Harry inquired, attempting to appear relaxed about it. Draco responded with a nervous laugh that came out more high-pitched than he wanted. "

"You see, I don't remember much after my fourth bourbon and half of Seamus' Appletini, which is cause for a bit of concern." When Harry didn't say anything, he lowered his head, a new feeling of apprehension filling him. "Look Harry-"

At being addressed by his given name for the first time that morning (at least while he was conscious), Harry twitched and focused fully on the blonde.

"I'm really, really sorry for anything I did last night, but I need to know what charges I should inform my solicitor about when you go to the Ministry to have me arrested." The crooked smile that was born of this last remark held traces of fear and regret in it, and that pulled at Harry's heart.

"Well," he started, "if it makes you feel any better, we didn't really, uh, do anything."

"So that just appeared while you were sleeping eh?" Draco asked with a raised eyebrow, an accusatory finger trained on the hickey below the man's ear. Blushing scarlet, he clapped a hand to his neck and back-pedaled furiously.

"W-well, when I say nothing I mean _nothing _not nothing, you know?"

"It's obvious you didn't defeat You-know-who by wielding your superb reasoning skills and mastery of the English language."

"Oh shut up. I'm tired, hung-over, and was rudely awakened from a lovely dream by my former enemy." Draco crossed his arms and stared at him.

"And how do you think _I _feel? I woke up mostly naked in _someone's_ bed, and the that _someone_ turns out to be the bloody Savior of Wizard kind, who I apparently molested, but I don't know to what degree because I have no fucking memory of last night and call-me-Harry Potter won't tell me!" This last came rushed out in a high-pitched holler, leaving him shaking and panting. Tentatively, Harry rested his hands on Draco's shoulders, startling the blonde. Green eyes bored into hectic grey ones.

"Breathe, Draco," he said soothingly. "You're turning purple, and that's not really your colour."

"There's no such thing. All colours suit a Malfoy," Draco sniffed. "We posses a beauty that demands that every colour match its radiance."

"Yes yes, I know you're gorgeous, you don't need to reminding me."

Draco froze mid-monologue. "You, you think I'm gorgeous?"

"Well yeah," Harry said slyly, the intensity of his gaze rendering Draco immobile. "How could I not? This soft pale skin-" He stretched out his hand and lightly traced a line along Draco's jaw with his forefinger. "Those big silver eyes-" Gently he stroked an eyelid as both eyes fluttered shut. "The famous Malfoy hair-" He tucked a long strand of platinum blond hair behind Draco's ear and then ran his thumb along Draco's bottom lip. "That pretty, pretty mouth…" Draco's heart thudded in anticipation as Harry leaned forward. He was finally getting what he wanted, what he had pictured while wanking in the Prefects' bathroom-when all of a sudden Harry sat up. "Well you catch my drift. I'm off to take a shower, help yourself to whatever's in the kitchen!" and with a wave and a smug smile he spirited away off into the bathroom. Draco just sat there, stunned.

"That wanker. Who taught him to flirt like a Slytherin?"

Harry stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist, grabbing another one to his hair. '_That should show Draco,_' he thought. '_Getting me all excited about my first blow in months only to pass out on my floor._'

He brushed his teeth and threw on a pair of jeans and a white t-shirt. About to put on his glasses, he remembered Draco's comment the night before and put in his contacts. They were less comfortable but-he grinned. Draco liked them.

Tossing his used towels into his laundry hamper, he walked into his tiny kitchen and grinned at Draco. He was perched on the counter –still wearing only a blanket- nursing a cup of coffee laced with a handy pepperup potion he had found in the cupboard.

"Shower's free if you want it," Harry informed him, pouring a cup of coffee.

The blonde hopped off the counter, gripping the blanket where it had begun to slip down his slim shoulders. "You know, a good host would have let his guest shower first," he drawled, hitching a brow at Harry. The man merely shrugged.

"What can I say? I needed to be clean." Rolling his eyes, Draco snorted delicately.

"Really?" He sauntered closer to whisper in his ear. "But being dirty is so much fun." Smirking, he walked past towards the showers. This time it was Harry's turn to freeze and blush.

Draco climbed in the shower, sighing as the hot water massaged sore muscles and washed away the grime from his skin. '_What an odd turn of events,_' he mused to himself as he scrubbed his scalp. '_Who would have thought that I would end up in Harry Potter's bed? Well,_' he corrected. '_Harry Potter's bed sans Harry Potter._' He turned off the water and stepped out with a smirk. '_For now._' Swiftly he plaited his damp hair into a sloppy braid and cast a quick Glamour to hide the dark circles beneath his eyes. His vanity satisfied, Draco began to loosely tie his towel around his waist when a depraved idea crossed his mind. It wasn't fair for Harry, with his intact memory and home-court advantage, to have all the power. It was time to level the playing field. He dropped the towel, grabbed his wand, gave the mirror a quick smirk, and then left the bathroom to go join his host.

Harry has reading the _Prophet_ when the blonde returned. Hearing his footsteps, Harry looked up, ready with an acid remark about women taking too long in the shower, only to have his thoughts scatter.

Before him stood a naked, dripping wet Draco Malfoy. Harry drank in the sight before him. With his alabaster skin and toned form, he looked less like human and more like a statue of Adonis.

The Adonis just looked at him with a smirk. "You know, Harry, it's rude to stare."

"W-well, it's, uh, rude to, uh, um…" Harry countered weakly.

Draco laughed. "Of course it is." He glanced up at the clock and sighed. "Well, I'm afraid I really should be going. Do you think that maybe we can talk about last night over dinner?"

Harry, still struck dumb, nodded unconsciously.

"Tomorrow?"

Nod, nod.

"At 8?"

Nod, nod.

"Celeste's?"

Nod, Nod.

"Perfect! Then it's a date." Draco summoned his clothes from the other room, blew a kiss, and disapperated, leaving a stunned, silent Harry in his wake.


End file.
